


Black Moon Rising

by zeph317



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Crack, Crossover with Teen Wolf, Gen, Humor, Schwarz meets all the Teen Wolf kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeph317/pseuds/zeph317
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Schwarz investigates suspicious activity in Beacon Hills, it will take all their wits and special talents to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Moon Rising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Ganesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/gifts).



> This is crack humor, so very much crack. I think the Teen Wolf guys are pretty much in-character, but I took liberties with Schwarz.
> 
> This was written for **Lady_Ganesh** for the weiss_kreuzmas holiday fic exchange on Livejournal. She requested Schwarz in Beacon Hills (with extra points for Danny), and I tried my best. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the holidays, and I’d like to publicly apologize for my sense of humor.
> 
> Also, many thanks to **ophelia_seven** for doing the beta even though she had no idea what she was reading.

Crawford had only an instant’s warning to pull the car off the road and screech to a halt as Schuldig attacked. He flung himself across the center console and grabbed Crawford’s shoulders, mashing his mouth to any part of Crawford’s face he could reach.

Crawford managed to work his palm between Schuldig’s lips and his own nose and push him off, but Schuldig tried a sneak attack to slobber on his neck and pant in his ear.

“What’s gotten into him?” Nagi asked from a safe viewing distance in the back seat. Crawford hoped he couldn’t see how Schuldig was trying to hump the gear shift.

“Schuldig, we’re almost at the high school,” Crawford tried his firm voice but it came out a little weak since he had to peel Schuldig’s hand off his belt buckle while he kept pushing at his face.

“I know,” Schuldig moaned. “I can hear them. All of them. Hundreds and hundreds of teenagers united with only one thought in their tiny, little brains.”

“Sex,” Crawford realized and Schuldig jerked back to smile brightly.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he lunged again while Nagi and Farfarello politely got out to walk the rest of the way, leaving their leader with no compunction to his fate.

When the car pulled alongside them as they reached the parking lot, Schuldig was nursing a bloody nose and Crawford looked a bit smug. He parked and joined them watching the crowd of students pushing into the school. 

“Beacon Hills High School. Home to some students with potentially unusual gifts who have come to the attention of our esteemed elders. We are here to observe and report back on any students who might be recruited to our worthy cause. Remember, reconnaissance only,” he narrowed his eyes at Farfarello who merely rolled his eye up to the clouds in the most innocent gesture he could manage.

“Right then. Let’s go to school.”

________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t that Schuldig didn’t think he couldn’t teach; it was that he simply didn’t _want_ to teach. Not that he’d had the best experiences in school and training, but eavesdropping into the minds of these students made him realize again how _stupid_ people were. And ridiculous. And hormonal. And capable of thinking only about sex acts and the porn they’d seen on the Internet last night. He discreetly adjusted himself before introducing himself to the class as the substitute German teacher. Then he made up an assignment just to keep them busy so he could continue listening in on their thoughts in case one was hiding a freakish superpower.

After five minutes, he was thinking they were so dull, he could just make one of them do something interesting that would scar them socially — and maybe physically — for the rest of their lives.

There were the usual thoughts — sex, boys, girls, boys on boys, girls on girls, and a constant litany of worry about homework, acne, part-time jobs, shopping and the full moon tomorrow night. Schuldig wondered about that thought and focused on the kid who was projecting the loudest as he stared off into space. His thoughts were racing about whether he’d find control the next night, worrying about what could happen if he didn’t, fearing whether he’d lose himself in the beast or if he’d be able to find the grounding, anchoring voice of his Allison. Lovely Allison. Wonderful Allison. Absolutely perfect in every way Allison. The Allison of his dreams. The Allison with the cutest dimples and the brightest smile and the most beautiful, round—

Schuldig tried to tune out, a little disappointed it had devolved to sex again because that first train of thought had seemed so interesting. Then another kid, all long limbs and big eyes, tore into the classroom, stumbling over his feet to give Schuldig a hall pass that he just waved off. He watched the kid give the Allison-kid a bro nod and take a seat in the back. Schuldig zoned out, touching each student in the class again briefly when suddenly it was like being sucked into a whirlpool, a great swirling eddy of thoughts and he went under with a gasp. He couldn’t even scream when the dizzying darkness took him.

________________________________________________________________

Since Nagi was only posing as a student, he figured that gave him every right to snoop into any class he wanted. But after learning that computer sciences was only teaching Microsoft Word and the school was still using five-year-old servers, he gave up the pretense and wandered the school grounds. He was walking behind the bleachers of the lacrosse field when two older kids — at least a foot taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier — decided picking on him would be more fun than smoking.

He left them twisted and cursing in the bleacher supports and walked out to spot a man across the field watching him. The guy was wearing jeans and a leather jacket but definitely looked older than a high school student, especially with the dark stubble that had hit five o’clock three days ago.

Nagi thought about keeping his cover and yelling for help from the obvious creeper, but the man just seemed content to stare at him under lowered, black eyebrows. Nagi stared right back. When one jock trying to free himself let out a particularly loud curse, he glanced away, and when he looked back the man was right in front of him.

“Aren’t you sick of being pushed around?” the man growled.

Nagi shrugged. “A little. “

“Hard life at home?” 

Nagi would hardly consider Schwarz home, but … “You have no idea.”

The man nodded and twisted his face into what he probably thought was a compassionate look. “Are you in pain? Living with people who bully you, belittle you, don’t appreciate you?”

“Oh god, yes,” Nagi said.

“I can help you, give you strength and power. You would never have to worry about them abusing you ever again,” the man said, his eyes getting a curious red tinge to them.

One of the jocks laid a hand on Nagi from behind, and he made a gesture, using his power to blow the kid back 20 feet, his back connecting with the bleachers in a solid thump. Nagi turned his own red eyes to the unshaven man and said, “Actually I’m good.”

The man nodded, and when Nagi looked again, he was gone.

________________________________________________________________

Farfarello didn’t even try to mingle. Crawford had told him to wait in the cafeteria kitchen, but he’d grown bored with frying breaded chicken fingers and scooping out Jell-O, so when he had the chance, he just walked away.

He was ignoring the stares and murmurs around him when he saw a group of boys carrying sticks with nets on the end. Curious about the foreign sports equipment, he wandered into the locker room and stayed in a corner watching the boys hurry off to shower then throw on clothes before rushing to their next class.

He was examining one of the lacrosse sticks when he heard a muffled shout. He followed the noise that turned into a whimper and saw a teenage boy leaning over a sink with a snake coming out of his eye. He cocked his head and watched because that wasn’t something he saw every day. The kid panted and gasped until the snake disappeared down the drain then looked back up in the mirror to see a perfectly intact eye. Farfarello was a little disappointed but interested again when he noticed the long, sharp claws on the kid’s hands.

“Who are you?” the kid had seen Farfarello’s reflection and whirled to meet him. “Are you another one of them? What are you going to do? Please don’t bite me!”

Farfarello just grabbed his wrist and held his claws up to inspect closer. The kid jerked in shock, whether at his touch or at the fact that his hands were covered in scales and wicked, sharp claws. 

“Those are very nice,” Farfarello said. “They look like they could do some real damage.”

The kid was shaking and opening his mouth, but no sound would come out.

“What do you use them for?” Farfarello asked and held on when the kid tried to pull his arm free.

“Nothing. I don’t… it’s nothing. Nothing is going on,” the kid kept saying as Farfarello held the claws closer to his eye then touched a finger to the clear liquid that was beginning to drip from one. He rubbed his fingers together and looked right in the kid’s face.

“You know, I’ve always wanted a pet,” he said right as the paralyzing toxin in the venom took hold and he gently keeled over. The kid looked like he was ready to bolt when Farfarello hit the tiled floor so he added, “Good defense mechanism. Perhaps you could just drag me over to a corner out of the way until it wears off? We don’t really want anyone to find out what happened, do we?”

________________________________________________________________

Like most missions when they tried to go undercover, it was all going to crap; Crawford was sure of it. He pinched his nose below his glasses and sighed. Schuldig had collapsed partway through a German lesson and been carried to the nurse’s office. Nagi hadn’t even pretended to attend any classes and was probably holed up downloading viruses onto the school’s server. Farfarello had disappeared from the cafeteria, but Crawford hadn’t seen any blood or heard any terrifying screams, so he was going to hope for the best there.

As for his cover as a substitute math teacher, Crawford was disappointed to learn that some things hadn’t changed at all since he’d left high school. The freshmen class had laughed throughout his attempted lecture on algebra, and one student had the nerve to throw a paper wad at the back of his head when he’d tried to demonstrate the answer on the chalkboard. Even though he’d dodged in time, the class giggled hysterically and no amount of threatened homework would make them shut up. The juniors were merely moronic in their attempts at geometry while the seniors clearly didn’t care at all about class since graduation was just around the corner.

Crawford had ignored the whispers and pointed fingers, put his chin up and taken the high ground when he overheard the teens making fun of his favorite cream suit and matching tie, and decided that sometimes being the adult sucked when all he really wanted to do was blurt out which students would be kicked out, knocked up or held back by the end of the year.

It wasn’t until he had a class of sophomores that his temper frayed. He was finally distracted from the formula he was writing on the board by a loud cough. When he called on the pretty red-haired girl who’d developed the sudden cough, he didn’t expect a five-minute lecture on how he’d put the minus sign in the wrong column and how he’d failed to multiply by y when he’d been stupid enough to divide by 2.

Then the girl called him an inept, bumbling fool as she swept by after the bell rang, and a bunch of her minions laughed. Laughed at him, Brad Crawford, one of the most powerful precognitives in the world. The man with the five-year plan to subjugate and enslave the world then take over as ruler. He was the leader of a group of the world’s most … adequate band of assassins, when they weren’t screwing him over. He should _not_ be having flashbacks to that troubling time of his life when everything was wired braces, big glasses and acne treatments. He should not be remembering all the bullying, the shoving, the classmates laughing at the smart kid who always knew too much for his own good.

He should not be bent over the desk, mumbling to himself, he thought as he stood up and attempted to straighten his tie. The last student left in the room had stopped in front of the desk, looking torn between asking if he were alright and just bolting. Crawford gave his tie a last tug and cleared his throat.

“How may I help you, Mr. …” Crawford prompted.

“Oh, it’s Danny. I just wanted to make sure I had turned in all the extra credit stuff when it seemed like you were having some kind of attack. Are you okay?” 

Crawford cleared his throat again. “Of course I am. And I’ll make sure I leave a note for your regular teacher regarding your extra credit assignments.” 

“Thanks. Are you sure everything is all right?” Danny asked. 

Then Crawford had the thought that he still hadn’t noticed any suspicious activity among the students, but who would be better to notice any irregularities than a peer. “Actually, Danny was it? You seem like a particularly bright and attentive young man. There _is_ something you could do for me. A special … you might call it assignment that could give you more than extra credit.” Crawford smiled his whitest smile, but he was shocked when the teenager took a step back toward the door.

“You’re pretty hot for an old, um, old _er_ guy, but I’m really not interested. I already have a boyfriend.” He added, “Sorry.”

“I wasn’t…” Crawford pinched his nose again. “You know what, I’m just going to go. And by the way, your boyfriend is going to dump you next Friday after he hooks up with a college guy at a club.”

Maybe some things hadn’t changed, but at least Crawford had. A little.

________________________________________________________________

He was still fuming as he walked to the car and found Nagi and Farfarello waiting.

“So, what have we learned here? What can we report back?” he said.

“Some guy I think was a pedophile offered me steroids or tried to recruit me to a cult or something,” Nagi shrugged. “I turned him down.”

“I want a dog,” Farfarello said. “Or a mountain lion. Or a lizard.”

Crawford resisted the urge to smack them but breathed a sigh that no one had discovered anything suspicious. They could just make their report that sorry, there was nothing to see here, and leave.

Then Schuldig wobbled out of the building with an ice pack held to his head. “And just what the hell happened to you?” Crawford demanded.

“I need painkillers. Or Viagra. Maybe some of each,” he moaned.

“What did you find out?”

He shivered. “Just that MTV was right. All those stereotypes about teenagers are true. They think about sex ninety percent of the day. Then food, sports and shopping. Except for that one kid.”

“You found someone suspect?”

He shivered again and grabbed Crawford’s lapels. The look in his eyes was as crazed as Crawford had seen it since that big incident at Oktoberfest two years ago they’d both vowed never to speak of again.

“His mind was… it was like… I’ve never…” Crawford was growing a little alarmed at Schuldig’s frantic arm motions.

“Another telepath? A telekinetic? What did he do?”

Schuldig’s voice was low, like he could barely speak the words. “In less time than I could imagine, he somehow went from thinking about conjugating German irregular verbs to the chicken strips at lunch to rating the original cast of Hawaii 5-O for sexiness based on physical attractiveness and wit.” Schuldig quaked. “Then it turned into an anatomically correct daydream about a giant orgy between that cast and the characters of the Avengers.”

“The movie ones?” Nagi asked.

“The Lego video game versions,” Schuldig wailed, and Crawford caught himself almost patting his shoulder. Then he remembered he didn’t coddle his team and they were professionals who definitely didn’t need treated for high school related PTSD.

“So, it looks like this was a bust. No one with special talents, no supernatural goings on, nothing out of the ordinary.”

They looked at Schuldig who was nearly sobbing into the ice pack and hustled him to the car. As they drove out of Beacon Hills for good, and left high school behind once and for all, Crawford could have sworn he heard a howl.

The End


End file.
